


Looks Can be Deceiving, Even if You're on the Right Track

by victoriousscarf



Category: DCU
Genre: Batman merchandise, M/M, Set during the Nightwing run
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-16
Updated: 2015-09-16
Packaged: 2018-04-21 03:14:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4812836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/victoriousscarf/pseuds/victoriousscarf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dick was pretty sure his face was bright red when he finally followed Bruce's eye line, trying to figure out what he was looking at and—</p><p>If he hadn't already been totally red, he would have been when he realized he wasn't only just wearing boxers, but they were the Batman boxers he often slept in. “Uh.”</p><p>Bruce's eyes were still wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Looks Can be Deceiving, Even if You're on the Right Track

**Author's Note:**

> At some point in the Nightwing solo run (I think it was the middle of Chuck Dixon's run) Dick is shown in Batman logo boxers. I've sorta wanted to write this fic or some variation of it since I saw that panel.
> 
> Since I had a horrible migraine yesterday I decided to reward myself with writing this.

Dick answered the knock on his door, still half asleep after staggering all the way across his apartment on automatic.

 

“If something's wrong with the—” he started, brushing hair out of his eyes and came to a full stop because Bruce Wayne was standing on his doorstep, tense and uncomfortable but standing _in his doorway_. 

 

Dick stared, mouth open and hair falling back in his eyes. 

 

“Good morning, Dick,” Bruce said, and he almost shifted from foot to foot before he seemed to stop himself. 

 

“Mornin',” he agreed, one hand still on the door the other frozen mid motion. 

 

Bruce looked like he wanted to sink through the floor and Dick was still too shocked to do anything except stare at him. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen _Bruce_ as Bruce instead of Batman or at parties where he was all smiles and wide hand gestures and hugs that made Dick tense more then respond because he knew it was a show, that Brucie boy in full party mode was touchy and open with his affections but Bruce himself was not. So it made Dick uncomfortable because it wasn't what he wanted at all, but he endured it on those occasions he still attended official Wayne functions, even if everyone gave him looks like they still had no idea where he fit into Bruce Wayne's life.

 

He had no idea either.

 

But now Bruce was standing in front of his apartment in Blüdhaven apartment and Dick was fairly certain he had never been here before.

 

Bruce hadn't come as Batman which meant this wasn't something about their other lives, or that he had made a mistake.

 

What was this about.

 

Bruce was staring at him, shoulders tense and Dick had no idea what to do.

 

“I came by to see you,” Bruce said finally.

 

“What?” Dick asked stupidly and normally he wasn't this bad in the morning.

 

“Well,” Bruce said, and he was studiously looking at the point over Dick's shoulder instead of actually at him. “It's a holiday at Wayne Enterprises and Gotham has been quiet, and, I thought, well, maybe I could come out and visit.”

 

“You never come to Blüdhaven,” Dick said and Bruce winced.

 

“I know,” he said, too softly, too vulnerable for out in the hallway but Dick still hadn't moved too lost in shock. “And I thought I might change that.”

 

“Huh?” Dick blinked, wariness entering his posture and he started to tilt slightly back from Bruce before he even thought about it.

 

“I know,” Bruce started, scrapped his plans, and began again. “We used to spend all our time together,” he said. “And yet the last few years, we've barely seen each other out of business, and I thought maybe, it was time, to try,” he stopped, rather then stammer or babble. “To try and be friends again.”

 

“Chums, huh,” Dick said under his breath and Bruce actually winced. “It's been a _long_ time, Bruce,” Dick said because apparently he was still hurting and Bruce waving a white flag in his face wasn't enough for him to graciously take it. When Bruce looked at his shoes, Dick finally stepped back from the door. “Come in,” he said, the words barely getting past the lump in his throat. 

 

Bruce looked like he was going to run away before he nodded and stepped inside. Dick closed the door behind him, suddenly too aware of the fact he had stumbled out of bed in his boxers and nothing else and had been talking to Bruce Wayne of all people in the hallway, with his ragged hair in his eyes and nothing but boxers. What a picture they must have made.

 

He tried not to think about it.

 

“So really,” he said. “What's up?”

 

Bruce was looking at his shoulder again. “Nothing,” he said. “I meant what I said.”

 

“You just, what? Want to spend the day together?” Dick's fingers hurt and he realized he had been clenching his hands tight enough to ache. 

 

“If you're not busy,” Bruce said.

 

“I'm not a kid anymore,” Dick said. “We're not—we haven't been friends in a long time, Bruce.”

 

“Then what would you call us?” Bruce asked, voice quiet and Dick wasn't used to hearing him like this.

 

“I don't know,” he admitted. “Donna's my friend, Wally, Roy. I don't know what you are.” 

 

“We used to spend so much time together,” Bruce said. “In and out of costume.” 

 

“And when I left the manor you seemed quite uninterested in doing that,” Dick said and Bruce's mouth thinned.

 

His hands were carefully in his suit pockets, and Dick was just glad he had left the jacket in the car or something because Bruce looked spiffy enough compared to his apartment without it. “Can I not make up for past mistakes?” Bruce asked and Dick looked away, swallowing convulsively. 

 

“Maybe,” he allowed. 

 

“Let me buy you breakfast,” Bruce said.

 

“I have some money too,” Dick said, too fast.

 

“I know,” Bruce said. “But I want to take you out. As I said, I want to just,” he stopped and restarted. “Try to spend time together.”

 

Dick still felt shaky and too big for his skin. “Okay,” he said finally. “Okay.” And when he looked back he realized Bruce was actually staring at him and was again all too aware of how little he was in.

 

Which wasn't entirely _new_ around Bruce, they had stripped out of costume and showered together, and patched each other up plenty of times but it felt like it had been a while since he had been in so little and Bruce in so much and—and Bruce was staring intently at his waist. 

 

“Bruce?” he asked, shifting. 

 

“Hm?” Bruce hummed and yes, he was definitely staring at Dick's waist, and there was something wrong with his face. 

 

Dick was pretty sure his face was bright red when he finally followed Bruce's eye line, trying to figure out what he was looking at and—

 

If he hadn't already been totally red, he would have been when he realized he wasn't only just wearing boxers, but they were the Batman boxers he often slept in. “Uh.”

 

Bruce's eyes were still wrong. 

 

“That is,” Dick said, because he was wearing his mentor's logo all over his body, his _boxers_ and it wasn't like having a Batman mug—which was sitting by the sink—or a Batman poster—which had been in his college dorm room for the brief time he had been there. 

 

It was shockingly intimate and Bruce still wasn't looking away. 

 

“Bruce?” Dick tried after a beat. 

 

“Those look worn,” Bruce said and his voice was wrong, deep but not Batman deep, and he hadn't looked away yet. Dick squirmed. 

 

“I've had them for a while,” he admitted. 

 

“Why?” Bruce demanded and Dick was starting to feel hot under his skin under those eyes. 

 

“Because I have,” Dick said, defensive because he could feel arousal crawling through his body and Bruce way paying too much attention not to notice if this went on any longer. “I have a mug too. Sometimes it's joke gifts, you know, from Roy or something. Sometimes from people who don't know but Batman's popular okay? My landlady gave me a—the mug I think.” 

 

“You wear them to sleep,” Bruce said and his voice was too warm. 

  
Dick swallowed hard. “Sometimes.” 

 

He hoped to god the plush Batman was shoved under the bed and not anywhere Bruce could see it because he was a sentimental idiot sometimes who missed Bruce so much he couldn't breath. Just as much as he couldn't just accept Bruce easily back into his life either.

 

Bruce took a step forward and Dick nearly flinched back because Bruce had his expensive aftershave on, and Dick sometimes had sneaked into his room when he wasn't there and put his head on the pillow just to smell Bruce. 

 

“Bruce,” he said, and his voice had done something funny too, too rough and raw. 

 

He was getting hard in the  _stupid_ boxers because Bruce was right there. 

 

“I should,” Dick started. “If we're going to breakfast I need to—”

 

Bruce's pupils were dilated and Dick's mind came to a screeching stop. 

 

“Dick,” Bruce said and his voice was warm and deep, sliding all the way down Dick's spine and his fingers were there, in the dip of the boxers and the back of his hands were warm on Dick's stomach and he stopped breathing. “Why do you wear Batman boxers?”

 

“Because,” he said, too breathy. “It was supposed to be funny a long time ago.”

 

And Bruce's fingers were still touching him and they were warm and huge and Dick was burning up, trying not to press himself into Bruce and he had never felt so aware of how big Bruce was, the fact Bruce could engulf him. 

 

“Funny?” Bruce asked and Dick whimpered.

 

“Bruce, _this_ isn't funny,” he said. 

 

“Then why was you wearing these supposed to be funny?” Bruce asked and his voice was a rumble and Dick could feel it, and his hands came up on Bruce's biceps because he had to have something to ground himself. 

 

“I don't know,” he admitted, mind a jumbled mess. “I don't remember. Something stupid.” 

 

Bruce's fingers were still pressed against his skin and everything was narrowing down to that and it would be pathetic if he hadn't always been pathetic about Bruce. If he hadn't been stupidly in love and needy since he was wearing short pants out in the night, since he'd figured out how beautiful Bruce was. 

 

This was still a horrible idea.

 

They were a horrible idea, that thought was the one that had kept him going because he was  _happy_ that Bruce and him were talking, fighting together, and that sometimes he still stopped by the manor for dinner when Alfred invited him and Bruce always let him. This... this was gonna complicate that.

 

On the other hand he usually threw himself off the building and figured out how he was gonna land halfway down. 

 

He was good at thinking up solutions on the fly.

 

“It looks like a mark of ownership,” Bruce said, and Dick had to close his eyes.

 

“I don't think I need logo boxers for that,” he said, into the darkness behind his eyelids and Bruce's huge, heavy hands were moving from the front of his waist around to the back, his finger dipping underneath the elastic and urging Dick forward and he went with a whimper, pressed against Bruce's chest. 

 

“Dick,” Bruce said, and because his eyes were closed he hadn't noticed that Bruce had leaned forward, until his mouth was practically against his ear. He twitched against Bruce, aware that Bruce was still mostly clothed and he was almost naked. “Dick, what do you _mean_?” 

 

And just having Bruce touching him was making him pathetically needy already, and Bruce must have felt that he was hard, already leaking and it would have been am embarrassment if it was anyone else.

 

It couldn't be this easy, Dick thought, except when he opened his eyes Bruce was looking at him like he wanted to eat him. Dick swallowed the next whimper, fighting his voice under control before he spoke again. 

 

“Don't you _know_?” he asked and Bruce shook his head but he looked like he was starting to hope he did. 

 

It couldn't be this easy, Dick repeated to himself.

 

It couldn't be this easy.

 

_Yes it could_ , he decided, throwing himself up those last inches and Bruce caught him, his arms holding Dick up like it was easy, one of his hands all the way down the boxers now. And Dick kissed him, holding onto his biceps and slamming their mouths together with non of his usual grace or care. 

 

He kissed Bruce and for a second Bruce didn't react. Despite everything Dick felt a moment of panic, of pure fear that he had messed up and made a mistake, had misread this before Bruce slammed him against the wall, shoving his free arm under Dick's thigh and encouraging him to wrap his legs around his waist. Bruce was swallowing his whimpers with his open mouth and Dick's fingers were scrambling on his arms. 

 

They had known how to move and fight around each other for a long time, and it only took them a few minutes to figure out how to kiss each other too, and before he was ready for it, Bruce was trailing his tongue on the roof of Dick's mouth and finding all the ways to make Dick moan. 

 

“I really did just want to talk,” Bruce said, drawing back, and Dick blinked at him, trying to focus on his actual words and face again. “That's all I came here for. I didn't plan this.”

 

“I didn't think you did,” Dick said, when he could find his voice again. It was strained and his hips kept moving against Bruce's, little motions he couldn't stop. “If you'd planned this, I think it would have gone differently.”

 

Perhaps no less awkwardly, he added to himself, because once when he was younger he thought Bruce really did have a handle on how to interact with people, and only later did he realize Bruce knew how to interact with people as Batman and as Brucie and not at all how to deal with his own emotions. It was cute, when it wasn't infuriating. 

 

“Dick,” Bruce breathed. 

 

“Bruce, _please_ ,” Dick whined and got to watch Bruce's eyes glaze over before they were kissing again, and Dick was still pressed against the wall, held up by Bruce and he was moaning as Bruce dragged him closer against him. 

 

Honestly, if this had been planned, Dick sorta hoped he wouldn't have ended up humping against Bruce in his Batman boxers as Bruce urged him closer. When he came it was with a wail he muffled in Bruce's shoulder, shuddering against him and Bruce just pulled him closer, letting Dick come down in his arms. 

 

He laughed into Bruce's shoulder, because it wasn't like these boxers hadn't seen this sort of treatment before. He wasn't going to tell Bruce that though.

 

Not when Bruce was stroking fingers down his spine and kissing his temple. 

 

“Dick,” Bruce said, and Dick lifted his head to grin at him. 

 

“Yeah?” he rasped, eyes bright. 

 

Bruce seemed to discard what he had been thinking of saying, taking Dick with him when he finally moved away from the wall and carried him into his bed room. Arms wrapped around his neck, Dick laughed the whole way. 

 

“This isn't gonna be a one time thing, right?” he asked as Bruce dropped him on the bed and he dragged Bruce down with him. 

 

“No,” Bruce growled, finally peeling those boxers off and Dick threw his head back, laughing and moaning as Bruce kissed his throat, hands everywhere now. 

 

He didn't tell Bruce he loved him, had loved him for too many years to be decent. 

 

Some things could wait for later. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I think Dick and Bruce have the potential to need like, a long saga, Alfred translating, and horrible pain to admit their actual feelings for each other. Other times I think that after all they've been through it would be so intensely easy to just fall on each other and never let go. The second is really want I wanted to explore here.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [眼见不为实](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6047676) by [bbanni](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bbanni/pseuds/bbanni), [victoriousscarf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/victoriousscarf/pseuds/victoriousscarf)




End file.
